It All Started With Dr Who
by heliotrophy
Summary: Arthur and Alfred bond over watching Dr. Who. Warnings: Eventual UK/US, swearing, some sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: copious amounts of swearing, masturbation, possible sex in later chapters, yaoi pairing (UK/US/UK) and butchering of Dr. Who!

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><p>It all started with Dr. Who.<p>

That was when he found out that he was a bloody pervert.

Now, it hadn't started with the beginning of Dr. Who, although he had been a loyal fan from the beginning. It was sometime in the seventies that Alfred had intruded on his guilty pleasure. He didn't even remember why Alfred was at his house, just that his prodding hadn't clued America into leaving. He was just yammering away at him while it got closer and closer to show time and Arthur became more and more irritated.

"Look, can we talk about this later?"

"What? Why?" Arthur sighed, it was usually America that wanted to push work aside while he went off to watch American football, he cringed thinking about the abomination of a sport, or get a burger, or what have you…but it was Dr. Who! If he didn't watch it today he'd have to wait another three days to watch the rerun at one o'clock in the morning.

"I want to watch a show."

"A show?" America just stared at him blank faced. "You're going to the theatre? Now?"

"No, a television program."

"A television program…?" Now his mouth was hanging open. Arthur frowned.

"Yes, is that so hard to understand? I want to watch a television show, and it comes on in fifteen minutes, so if you wouldn't mind I would like to take a break for an hour and watch it." He spat through clenched teeth.

"England!" America shouted, awestruck, "I didn't know that you liked to watch TV!"

"Why is it so bloody amazing that I'd want to watch a television program?"

"I don't know, you've never talked about what shows you like! All you do is talk about politics, or books you've read."

"Maybe if you read more, we'd have something to talk about and you'd know more about other things that I like."

America pouted, "I read, I just don't like fiction books." He muttered underneath his breath, "It's not like you'd want to talk about the mechanics of deep space propulsion or an article in Scientific American."

"What are you mumbling about?" England asked, sweating as he looked at the clock.

Only eleven more minutes!

"Nothing!" America said cheerily, and then added, "It's okay! We can take a break. Why didn't you just ask?"

England sighed, exhaling slowly as he counted to ten.

"I've been trying to ask, politely."

"Oh, well you should have said that you wanted to watch something. Man, I thought you were just trying to get me to leave for no reason! You don't need to be so polite with me."

Bollocks! Only ten minutes!

"So, what are we watching?"

"What?" We?

"What show are we watching?" Alfred reiterated, cocking his head to the side.

"Dr. Who…" he said in a small voice. Damn, there went his quiet evening. America would probably spend the entire movie talking, narrating everything that he'd just watched on the bloody screen back to him.

"Is it a soap opera?" America asked.

"What? No, it's not a bloody soap. Why would you think that?" the Brit asked, appalled.

"Well, it's about a Dr., isn't it? Aren't lots of soaps in hospitals? I don't know, I usually watch action shows like Dukes of Hazard!" Alfred continued. "Is it a comedy? Like 'Who's on first'?"

"No, not most of the time anyway. Although, at times it's humorous." Arthur chuckled thinking about the ridiculous character designs.

The Daleks always got a laugh out of him.

"So, what's it about then?"

"Well, it's about an alien called the 'Doctor' who travels through space and time interacting with the human race and trying to prevent catastrophes from tearing apart the fabric of the universe."

Now, America's eyes had gone all shiny and his mouth was wide open in a huge grin. It made England a bit uncomfortable to be faced with so much blatant emotion, especially when it was unabashedly staring at him directly in the face.

"England! That sounds amazing!" America practically squealed.

"Right…" He trailed off, not sure how to respond.

Shit! His eyes had flicked to the clock and he saw they'd been talking too long. He only had three minutes!

"Shall we go into the den?" He hoped they hadn't started it early. He hated to miss the beginning! It would ruin the whole experience for him.

America followed him into the den and sat down at one end of the couch while England turned the tele on and to the appropriate station.

Oh God save the Queen he mentally swore and breathed a sigh of relief. The commercials were still running.

England sat down on the free end of the couch and quietly prayed that America wouldn't talk the whole time and ruin it for him.

The episode opened with some unknown minor characters, it looked like they were plodding along in Cardiff somewhere. His mouth started to curl into a smile as a Dalek flashed up on the screen, murdering the unsuspecting bystanders with some corny effects. As England turned to the side about to make a sardonic comment on the cheesiness of it he had the wind knocked out of him by a heavy weight landing in his lap.

"America, what…?" America was practically on top of him now, his face buried into the crook of England's neck. The younger nation squirmed against him, making his heart start to beat furiously and causing his face to grow red.

England just sat there for a moment, too dumbfounded to process what was going on. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this physically close to someone without it involving violence. The American was clinging to him, his body pressed so close that England could feel his heartbeat against the side of his chest, the muscles in his arms drawing him close and clutching at him, the shivery feel of his breath against his exposed neck. The intimacy of the act and his body's response to it shocked him.

It had stirred a well of emotion from deep within him, causing it to rise up and make its presence felt.

In other words, he was getting hard and was unsure what to do about that.

That was, until America started to wail.

"Ahhhhhh! That-that was so-so-so sa-sa-scary!" the yank sobbed into his neck.

"America, are you afraid of the Daleks?" He asked, incredulous.

"I-if that's what those-those thiiinnnggggsssss are called, then yes!"

"Why…?"

"What do you mean why? Who wouldn't be? They totally blasted that guy like it was nothing!"

They spent the next hour like that, America clutching at him and wriggling against him whenever a Dalek showed up on screen. He wouldn't even let him go during the commercials! When the episode ended, he became completely unreasonable. He said he was too scared to leave because he was certain a Dalek would vaporize him as soon as he stepped out the door.

"How many times to I have to tell you? They're not real! They're not even frightening looking! They look like rubbish bins for heaven's sake!"

"It's not what they look like, it's what they can do!" Alfred wailed, still on top of him.

"At least get off of me!" Arthur yelled.

He'd been half hard for an hour now, and it was starting to get to him. Not to mention, he still wasn't sure what to think of his half erection. Or rather, he wasn't sure what to think of WHAT had caused it.

To make matters worse, America was squirming on top of _it_ without a clue! Any normal person would have the decency to notice and jump off! How daft could he be, really? To not notice that…!

"I can't!"

"What do I have to do to make you get off of me?" He gritted through his teeth, trying the shove him off for the umpteenth time and faltering against the boy's supernatural strength. He sighed, resigned to his fate. At least America had stopped fidgeting as he considered the question. England could tell that America was looking at him, but he refused to look back. He was just about ready to die of embarrassment already.

"Let me stay with you?"

"Is that all? Fine. Now get off."

"No, I'll get off tomorrow morning."

He squawked, indignant. "I have to sleep America! I can't bloody well hold you all night!"

"We don't have to stay up, but you have to stay with me! C'mon, I know you're scared too!"

"What in the world would make you think I'm scared of some ridiculous rubbish bin?" he roared, entirely fed up.

"Your heart's pounding!" America accused.

No, you stupid git, my heart is pounding because there's a bloody attractive albeit dim-witted bloke ridding me like a bloody horse.

Arthur's eyes widened, shocked at his own thoughts.

Damn! Alfred was not just some attractive bloke; he was Alfred!

Wait, attractive…? Ride him like a horse? Where had that come from?

He most definitely was a pervert! Double-damn!

Groaning, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to think, alone, without any distractions. Suddenly, he had a brilliant idea.

"Alfred, I have to shower before bed. I promise you, I will stay with you tonight, but you have to let me take a shower. Now will you bloody well get off of me? "

"You never used to shower before bed." Alfred stated as a matter of fact.

Arthur sputtered, "The last time we lived together, they hadn't even invented showers!"

Now it was America's turn to sigh. Even without looking at him, Arthur could tell that America was tense, but he didn't know what to do anymore. "Alfred, please!" he said utterly exasperated.

"Alright." Steeling himself for a second, America stood and then sat down on the couch gingerly.

Not wanting to risk his present motility Arthur retreated to the master bathroom as quickly as possible. Once inside the sanctuary of its tiled walled, he double and triple checked to make sure that he lock was secure before turning on the shower.

Well, he might as well actually take a shower while he was thinking.

Stripping, he debated whether to take a hot shower or a cold one. While a cold shower would certainly take care of his problem, he was bloody tired and already uncomfortable.

Opting for a hot shower he let the spray warm up a bit before stepping into the tub and pulling the shower curtain closed behind him.

America had looked genuinely afraid. Arthur felt a pang of guilt stab through him at as he began soaping up.

That was probably his fault too. When America was younger Arthur had often intentionally scared him. At first he'd done it as a joke, not even sure if the boy would be afraid considering his Herculean strength but after the first time America had come running to him, his cute fat little cheeks streaked with tears and his chubby arms reaching for Arthur, he couldn't get enough.

He bitterly admitted it was one of the only times in his life he'd ever felt wanted.

Finished with his body he squeezed some shampoo into his hand and started to wash his hair.

Even when America had been very young, it seemed like the boy had barely needed him, and then he grew up so fast.

Well, that was probably for the better. Now he was even larger than Arthur.

He'd grown up into such a strong, capable man.

And God he had a nice muscular ass.

He felt his cock come back to attention. Damn! He'd gone in a circle with his thoughts and now he was back to where he started.

He'd finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and was just standing under the spray now.

He knew three things: One, he couldn't hide in the lou all night, two, that he was probably going to end up spending the night in the same bed with Alfred, clinging to him most likely, and three, if he had to spend all night at half mast, his head was going to explode.

Leaning his forearm against the wall, he hid his face in the crook of his elbow as he began to slowly stroke himself.

He gave in for the moment, thought of Alfred on sitting on top of him now, not burying his face in Arthur's neck to hide from the monsters but seeking out his flesh, nuzzling him. Rocking his hips over him intentionally, in a steady rhythm, instead of gyrating over him in paroxysms of fear.

His hand sped up a bit.

The Alfred in his head wanted Arthur just as desperately as Arthur wanted him.

His breathing starting getting faster, he was getting close now.

In his imagination, Alfred leaned down and whispered, "Let me stay with you?" into his ear.

Arthur came into his hand with a little "oh".

Damn, he was a bloody pervert.

"Alfred?" He called, toweling off now and putting on his robe. He unlocked the door, surveying his bedroom.

The coast was clear, he should be able to change then go figure out what to do with Alfred for the night. Picking out some pajamas, he wondered if there was anything he could offer the American to wear to bed. He didn't think that he had any pants that could fit him, but he did have a few undershirts he'd bought in too large of a size a few months back and hadn't returned yet.

When he finished changing, he opened the door to his bedroom and called out "Alfred?" down the hallway towards the den.

"Yes?"

"Are you coming to bed?"

"Will you come get me?"

Arthur sighed. I should just leave him out there, Arthur thought idly. "Sure, not like I have anything better to do." He replied tartly.

He waltzed rather saucily down the hall. His shower wank had actually helped him relax a bit, and now that he wasn't horny he didn't have as many trepidations about interacting with Alfred.

He felt a wave of pity hit him as he took in the sight of his former colony. Wide-eyed and forlorn, America looked so much like the child he had raised whatever smart ass remarks he had saved up died in his throat.

"Come on, time for bed." He said, proffering his hand. Alfred accepted it and held his hand all the way into his bedroom.

"I've got an undershirt I think you'll fit, if you'd like something to change into." He said, handing Alfred the package of large undershirts.

"Thanks!" America said gratefully, happily ripping open the package and divesting himself of his clothing. He seemed to be in a much better mood now.

"I don't suppose you'll suddenly become reasonable and agree to sleep in one of the spare rooms?" England asked, too tired to get into a real argument. He sat on his bed while America stripped to his boxers.

"No way, that's too far! Those Daleks can kill you in a second flat! How am I supposed to be a hero and protect you if I'm down the hall?"

England snorted in amusement, but it quickly turned into a choking noise as America slid into the overly tight t-shirt.

"You okay?" he asked, standing in the middle of the room in a skin tight undershirt and his American Flag boxers.

"Peachy." England replied sarcastically, rolling onto the bed and getting under the covers. "Get the lights, will you?"

America obediently turned off the lights, then slid into bed after England, tossing and turning trying to get into a comfortable position, no doubt with visions of rubberized plastic bins yelling "exterminate!" dancing through his head. They stayed that way for several minutes before England rolled over and pulled America into a loose embrace. After he did, America seemed to relax and didn't move around anymore.

As England drifted off to sleep, he thought wryly that the worst thing about tonight was that he hadn't been able to concentrate on the plot this week's episode of Dr. Who and he hadn't the foggiest idea why the Daleks had showed up in the first place.

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><p>This was supposed to be a one shot, but it's sort of morphed? I've been having a lot of funny ideas for it but I'm not sure if I will continue this. Please leave a comment if you liked it and would like to keep reading!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

If England had been a different man, he might gone through his routine skipping, whistling, smiling brightly, or otherwise showing some outward sign of his inner glee, but no, he was a gentleman. He was refined! Even so, as he went about his daily activities he could not prevent it as a small smile of satisfaction crept onto his face.

He was getting excited. It was a splendid day, no catastrophes had befallen the world, and soon enough he'd have the evening to himself!

After last week's disaster he was looking forward to watching Dr. Who without any distractions. He had been forced to watch last week's rerun at one o'clock in the morning just to figure out why the Daleks had invaded Cardiff in the first place and as a consequence of staying up that late his schedule had been thrown off for the remainder of the week, but that wasn't important. He was all caught up now and tonight he would actually be able to enjoy watching his favorite series!

Whatever else had happened last week must have been a fluke, a one-time occurrence he reassured himself, and he was more than happy to let it slip by without thinking about it ever again.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell started to ring.

He looked up at the clock.

He wasn't expecting anyone; who could it be at this time?

Whatever it was they better be bloody quick about it.

Opening the door he was surprised to find Alfred on the other side.

"Yo, I brought ice cream this time." the taller blonde said, unceremoniously depositing a carton of the aforementioned treat into England's arms and walking past him into the house.

"Ice cream?" Sure enough as he looked down he found a tub of Neapolitan in his hands. "America, why are you here?" Arthur inquired, truly baffled, while Alfred removed his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack.

"Isn't it time for Dr. Who?" Alfred asked quizzically.

"Wait, you knew it was time for Dr. Who, and you intentionally came anyway?" England accused as he angrily clutched at the tub of dessert.

"Of course I came because it was time…" America trailed off, trying to understand what England was asking, "What do you mean? Did I get the time wrong?" America asked as he scratched his head, befuddled.

The thought of lying to the American and telling him that he had indeed missed this week's showing of Dr. Who crossed his mind, but he couldn't do it. It would be wrong to sully Dr. Who with a lie. In any case, knowing Alfred he'd never leave and Arthur would be caught in his own lie and wouldn't be able to watch Dr. Who at all so this was probably for the better.

"No. It comes on in five minutes," he admitted begrudgingly and crossed his arms.

"Wait, you've come here tonight explicitly to watch Dr. Who?" England queried, slowly coming to the realization that his opportunity to have a peaceful evening had already been completely railroaded.

"Awesome! I knew I had perfect timing!" the American said brightening immediately, and then in response to England's question he chirped "I had fun last week so I thought I would come join you again."

"Are you daft? You spent the whole time sitting on me like some sort of deranged mother hen, while screaming like a little girl I might add, and then you adamantly refused to leave!" England sputtered, aghast.

"Did not!" Alfred retorted, turning red. "Anyway, I'm the hero so I can handle anything!" American said while he used his thumb to point at his chest and smiled at Arthur.

"Like hell!"

"Actually England, I'm surprised that you like Dr. Who! It seems like you'd hate it!" he said happily while he slapped the other's back.

"Excuse me?" Arthur responded, derailed.

"C'mon, you have to admit it seems more like something that I would like. I like science fiction, space exploration, aliens, and time-travel! Those are all me things!" while he reasoned with England he rummaged through the cupboards, making a complete mess, and no doubt looking for a bowl of great enough size to service his gluttonous appetite.

"I mean, I thought you like hated all that kind of stuff. Why would you like Dr. Who?" he said while he laughed and served himself five or six portions.

Incensed, England screamed the first thing that came to mind, "Of course I like it! It's British!"

America stopped what he was doing to stare wide-eyed at Arthur. Feeling an intense embarrassment Arthur turned on his heel and stalked into the den rather than try to explain his gaffe.

'What the hell was that?' he moaned internally.

"Hey England?"

Damn, the bloody git had followed him.

"What now?" He ground out.

"Do you think you could empty your pockets?"

England frowned.

What an odd request.

"I suppose," he said automatically as he removed his keys and phone from his pockets before lowering himself unto the couch. "Why?"

America shook his head, then turned his head to look at the screen as he seated himself, "Last time we were sitting on the couch something was sticking me."

England started making a choking noise and stared at Alfred like he'd grown a second head, which come to think of it he probably wouldn't notice even if he had. He continued looking at America while he watched a Pillsbury doughboy commercial in rapt attention, trying to gauge the other man's intentions.

Was America just fucking with him?

At that moment American was blissfully eating his ice cream unaware of Arthur's internal turmoil. After engulfing a particularly large portion he drew the spoon out of his mouth slowly, and then noticing a bit of cream on the back of his utensil he thoroughly licked the spoon from its base to its tip.

Arthur's response, while not entirely unprecedented, was of an unexpected magnitude.

It was also concentrated almost entirely in his pants.

England tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but his mouth was suddenly dry. He felt certain if the clueless idiot looked at him in that moment, even he would be able to see the naked lust running through Arthur's veins.

Horrifyingly, at the very second America chose to turn his head and look at him. "Aha! I knew it!" he yelled and pointed at Arthur.

'Shit! He was fucking with me!' England thought while panicking.

"I wasn't-! I mean, I could never-!" he sputtered while his arms came up defensively to protect himself from the unsaid allegations.

"No worries" America said flippantly while grabbing one of Arthur's outstretched hands and dropping a clean spoon into it.

England stared at the cutlery. He stared at it opened mouthed with the same exact same expression he would have worn if Alfred had handed him a shrunken head.

"Uh…" he said intelligently.

"I knew you'd want some once you saw how good it looked! So, I made sure to get two helpings. Here eat some of the strawberry." America said while he pointed at the strawberry section of the ice cream enthusiastically.

As bizarre as the situation was, as Arthur stared at the gargantuan mound of ice cream the only thought that crossed his mind was 'that is most certainly more than two helpings'.

Tentatively, England used the spoon to gather a small portion of the strawberry ice cream and eat it.

"That's quite good, actually," he said and cleared his throat, relieved he hadn't been caught red handed.

England sighed, his evening was not going at all how he had planned. Oh well, at least the show had begun.

He felt a migraine about to come on and started to massage his temples

'It's British?' had that really been the best he could come up with?

Why was he developing such a preternatural ability to make a raging cock out of himself?

England chewed his lip briefly, thinking about what had just transpired and looking at Alfred out of the corner of his eye.

A terrifying thought crossed his mind.

Was this becoming a weekly occurrence? Shit, did that mean he would have to confront his…unbidden thoughts? Having assumed it was a freak occurrence and would not happen again, England had not spent any part of the last week dwelling on his lingering emotions from their last encounter.

Speaking of which, it really was just a matter before Alfred got scared and jumped him and his little spoon licking display hadn't exactly helped Arthur's situation. Alfred hadn't even touched him yet and he was already semi-aroused. 'Why oh why did I empty my pockets?' he thought while he held his face in his hands. He looked at his keys and cellular phone miserably, as they mockingly stared back at him, close enough to touch but figuratively out of reach.

A small part of him thought well fuck, maybe he should just wait for the inevitable to happen, surely Alfred would have to stop taking up residence on his crotch when he figured out what a massive hard on it gave him.

No! He was a gentleman damn it, and that would be unseemly.

He could hold pillow on his lap, that wouldn't be too suspicious, would it? Was he being too paranoid?

As he began dragging one of his accent pillows into his lap America asked "England, what are you doing?"

For such an oblivious idiot, he certainly was attentive to Arthur's every minute action. "Nothing! Can't a man make himself comfortable in his own home?" Arthur said defensively and laughed nervously.

"I knew it! You're just getting ready because you already know you're going to scream like a little girl!" Alfred teased.

Embarrassed England became angry and said "I'll hoping that it will protect me incase you decide to elbow me in the bollocks again when you jump on me!"

"England! I never elbowed you!"

"As if you would even notice with all your flailing!"

"Did I really hurt you?" America said while searching his face and invading his personal space. Was he actually concerned? England had to admit, he looked excessively put out about the prospect of having unintentionally injured someone.

Why was he so upset?

'Come to think of it with his monster strength he probably does have to be careful at all times' England thought.

He remembered vividly that when he first became acquainted with America's true strength he couldn't help but think that one-day the boy might unintentionally crush him. Several days after that particular revelation America had come running to him over some childish trifle and England had held back, unsure if he would be able to withstand it if they boy jumped on him, yet unable to move away fully. However, when America launched himself at England, clinging unto his pant legs and crying, the touch had been childish, the grip human, and England had mostly forgotten his fear.

It was astonishingly really, that they'd never had any incidents. He'd seen the America tossing his whale friend in the air once for 'fun'.

It demarked a level of awareness and consideration that Arthur was not accustomed to associating with The Land Of The Free And The Brave.

"No," he admitted feeling guilty, "your ass is just bony."

Oh what a lie; was this really what his life had come to?

A look of relief crossed America's face and chuckled good-naturedly and leaned back. "I'm going to remember that the next time you call me fat."

"You are fat. The only astonishing fact about it is how it is concentrated entirely on your waist."

"Am not! This is all muscle. Besides, at least I'm not starving to death from my own terrible cooking," he said pointedly while giving England a look.

"I'll have you know I weigh a perfectly respectable amount!" Arthur shouted, folding his arms and adopting a churlish expression. "And my culinary skills are none of your business!"

America snorted, "Seriously, what do you weigh? Like 160?"

"150?"

"130?"

"100 pounds?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Arthur said violently, "I don't know what it is in pounds." More quietly he said, "Nine stone, and about ten pounds. I'm not certain."

America stared at him blankly, then incongruously pulled out his cell phone to type something into it rapidly.

"Oh…" he breathed while he looked at Arthur with an unbelievably pitiful expression.

Arthur began to fume and refused to look at America. Consumed by his own deliberations on how to murder the twat he didn't notice as Alfred placed his spoon onto the table and dejectedly pushed the rest of the bowl of ice cream away.

The resulting atmosphere was slightly awkward, and they sat in silence for the first half of the episode.

The tension then broke when the pair experienced their first taste of the terrifying might of the cybermen.

"Ahhhhh!" Alfred yelled and jumped on Arthur in abject horror as some sad tosser was killed on screen.

As he has been dreading, England's heart accelerated and he felt warmth start to gather in his lower abdomen. The last time he had Alfred on his lap he had been quite shocked and it had rather dulled the experience. Now he felt hyper aware of everything. Alfred's breathing, every point of contact between their bodies, every little thing stood out like a signal fire blazing in the dead of night. And unfortunately for Arthur, he also discovered he could feel both randy and bloody angry simultaneously.

Thank God for accent pillows.

At the commercial break, England had finally calmed down somewhat and was able to ask the question that had been plaguing him since last week, "Why can't you hide behind the couch like a normal person?"

"What?" America looked up from his shoulder to gape at him, momentarily distracted from his all-consuming fear.

England sighed, "Don't you know? You're supposed to hide behind the couch when you're afraid."

"What? Why? That's stupid."

"It is not stupid! Everyone knows that's what you're supposed to do!"

"Whatever, my way is better."

"American!" Arthur shouted loudly and Alfred simply watched him curiously, his head cocked to the side.

England sighed. What ever had happened to his rapier wit?

"Besides, you're pretty comfortable for such a bony guy." America stated absentmindedly.

Arthur frowned, somewhat insulted, but at the same time he felt the inexplicable warmth that had nothing to do with his libido surge within him once more.

Damn the stupid bastard and his obliviousness he thought silently.

After the episode ended, Arthur turned to Alfred and pronounced, "No daleks tonight, time to go home!" happily.

Alfred looked up at him with his big blue eyes and responded "Arthur, what if the cybermen attack?"

For a second time that night, Arthur wondered if America was just fucking with him.

"Are you going to do this every time?"

"Do what?" America said in complete innocence.

"Be utterly ridiculous!"

"I don't know how we're going to fight off the cybermen anyway, but I think we shouldn't split up. I don't have any gold. I mean I have my watch but I think it's made out of copper and stainless steel, and I'm not even sure if it's real copper, and stainless steel is just an amalgam of iron and copper anyway, so really all I have is copper and iron. I don't have any gold England!" America babbled incessantly.

"Stop!" he said holding his brow, his frustration mounting. "You're not leaving of your own volition, are you?"

The younger nation shook his head.

"Fine, you can stay since I suppose it's impossible to kick you out anyway. Do get off me at the very least so that I might take a shower before bed."

America eyed him warily, shifting his position slightly and Arthur had to bite back a moan when it put pressure on a place that felt REALLY good.

God he needed Alfred to get off of him now!

"If I give you something made of gold to protect yourself, will you get off of me?"

Ahh, bribery.

"Hey that's not fair, I'm protecting you too!"

"Fine, if I give you something made of gold to protect _us_, will you get off of me?" Arthur said scathingly.

America considered it for a moment. "Okay, that's fair."

Arthur unclasped his watch and handed it to Alfred. "Here, give me your watch. We'll trade for the night."

Arthur sighed as America handed him his gaudy monstrosity of a timepiece.

"Please take good care of it, will you?" Arthur asked as he was freed.

"Um… but if a cyberman attacks, it might get damaged when I attack him."

"Right, well, take good care of it, unless there is a cybermen attack. In which case, by all means use it to bludgeon the bloody bastard to death." England conceded as he moved towards the bathroom.

"Okay."

As he stepped into the lou Arthur mentally kicked himself. He stood for a moment leaning against the closed door and attempted to sort through his feelings of shame, confusion, and blue-balls.

God, here he was hiding in the lou because of a stiffy, _again_.

How undignified.

England was quite fed up with his on vulgar imagination. To think, he was actually fantasizing about having an intimate relationship with America of all people? He must be going mad.

He turned spigot to the cold setting, then thought about it again and turned on the warm. 'Perhaps it would be wiser to act preemptively', he reasoned.

He finished his basic toiletries quickly, in order to 'take care of business' more precipitously, so to speak. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he reached down and started massaging his still hard cock. Briefly, his memory of the American licking ice cream off his spoon came back to him. Soon he began to fantasize about an altogether different scenario.

In his fantasy, America was slowly licking the frozen delicacy off his utensil, smiling seductively at Arthur the whole time,

"I knew you'd want some," He said, moving the spoon around in his mouth sensually, "but I didn't serve myself a big enough portion. You have to share."

Phantom Alfred preceded take a large bite of ice cream, but instead of swallowing it immediately he held it in his mouth. "You want it?" he asked brazenly around it.

Normally, England was disgusted by Alfred's habit of talking with his mouth full but caught up in his fantasy somehow it worked for him. England nodded his head unconsciously.

"Come get it."

Crawling over the mental couch, he and America started to kiss wetly, the ice cream running down their chins.

"Naughty, you're all messy." Alfred chastised while leaning down to lap at the sticky trailing leading down Arthur's neck, pushing Arthur into a seating position as he sunk to his knees, loosening Arthur's tie and the top buttons of his shirt to place a searing kiss on his collarbone.

He could almost imagine the soft feel of the water hitting his chest was Alfred's tongue, swirling around his nipples, unbuttoning his shirt fully and slowly kissing a indelible path towards his lower stomach, where the imaginary Alfred used his nose to tease England by drawing small circles in the sensitive area above his genitals.

"Want some more?" He asked, all hard r's and lazy vowels. Roughly and in contrast to his gentle ministrations from before Alfred pulled Arthur's pants and underwear down abruptly, leaving Arthur with his bare ass hanging halfway off the couch.

Arthur was helplessly consumed in his own daydream and could only nod weakly while he envisioned America poised above his crotch, mouth curled in a chuckle.

In his mind, America held the base of his dick while took in the sight of Arthur's body. Slowly and deliberately he drew the entirety of his flattened tongue over Arthur's frenulum, making Arthur pant raggedly. Alfred then teased him viciously and wondrously with his agile appendage, before taking pity and sucking in his head in one glorious go and beginning to fellate him.

The imagery became electrifying and Arthur had to hold his hand over his mouth to muffle himself as he came.

Left panting and breathless, but with his mind finally clear Arthur admitted to himself that he needed come to terms with these disturbing feelings.

Suddenly melancholy, he stayed under the spray of the water longer than necessary before shutting it off and wrapping a towel around his hips.

As he entered his bedroom, he remembered the package of undershirts that he lent Alfred the last time he had spent the night. Opening his dresser he stared at the package; there were two undershirts left inside.

"One's a point, two's a trend, and three's a pattern." He said to himself quietly, uncertain why he had thought of that particular adage.

Absently he placed the package on top of the dresser.

"Hey, do you want to stay up a bit? We did go to bed rather early last time, I mean we didn't even get to talk about what happened." Alfred suggested as England entered the den. He was exactly where England left him, fiddling with the gold watch around his wrist.

"You want to discuss the show?" England asked, with genuine astonishment as he leaned against the doorway and continued toweling his damp hair.

"Of course! Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you watch a show with someone?" America said while looking over his shoulder at him.

Come to think of it, he'd never spoken to anyone about Dr. Who. He'd just assumed that no one would be interested in it.

"And you have to finish telling me why you like Dr. Who!" America continued, "I mean, it's not really because it's British, is it? Although I guess that kind of makes sense. Like I like football, and I guess part of that is because it's so American, but I wouldn't say I like it because it's American because there are other things that I like about it too."

"Oh are you talking about AMERICAN football? I never did understand that confounded and misnamed sport. Now football, that's an actual game."

"What soccer? I like soccer too, but not as much as football."

England snorted, "We are in England, you could at least call it football while you're here."

"Wouldn't that be confusing?"

"Not as confusing as calling a game 'football' when you don't use your feet on the ball."

"Hey, they kick the ball!" America said, defending his favorite sport.

"Right, but you generally don't name a sport based on what happens only a small proportion of the time. It would be tantamount to playing water polo in a field near a pool and only jumping in to toss the ball around every once in a while."

America shrugged and said giggling, "Alright, well, I guess I like AMERICAN football because it is so AMERICAN, so I could see that you would like Dr. Who, because you're such an anglophile."

"I'm shocked you actually know that word."

America stuck his tongue out at England.

Normally, England would get angry at such a display. He knew this, but found himself smiling instead.

"I'll admit, I do think of Dr. Who as being quintessentially British," he mulled it over.

"I've never really thought about why I like it."

"It does rather have a spirit of adventure," he voiced, pausing, then more confidently he elaborated, "Yes, I enjoy that part of the storyline very much. Interacting with new cultures and traveling to strange lands, it's all very exciting, isn't it? I quite miss that." England spoke nostalgically.

"Don't worry, we'll get to space soon enough! Then we'll find more aliens and go exploring!" America said, thrusting his fist into the air.

"What do you mean more aliens? Don't be ridiculous. While I'll admit they're likely to exist, what makes you think they've already come to visit us? What makes you think they're any more advanced than we are? They're probably out there looking up, wondering what's out there just like we are."

"Uh, hello? I LIVE with an alien!"

"I keep telling you, he cannot be an alien. He's a gnome or some sort of dwarf and he's tricked you into thinking that he's an alien because you're so gullible. You know supernatural creatures are not all cute and cuddly like they make them out to be in the movies."

"Not you and your imaginary friends again!"

"They are not imaginary! You just think that because you're not pure enough to see them!"

"If I can't see them, and Tony isn't an alien and just some sort of …_gnome_, then how can I see Tony?" America reasoned.

"He's tricking you, you twit! They can choose to reveal themselves to whomever they like. It's not my fault he doesn't have any standards."

America made a noise in his throat unhappily, but didn't argue anymore.

"Well, even if aliens aren't here, and Tony is just some sort of supernatural creature, we made it to the moon didn't we? That was just a dream, once too. I mean could you have ever imagined that?" he said, his eyes lost in the past.

"You're introspective tonight." England commented, not used to having a philosophical conversation with America.

He shrugged.

"Well, it's getting late. I'm going to bed, goodnight!" he said in a rush as he tried to duck into his bedroom. As he reached the door a pair of strong wrapped around his chest from behind.

"You are going to refuse to sleep in the spare room again, aren't you?"

"Yup."

_Sigh._

"Come on then, time for bed." He said while opening the door to his room.

As he settled under the covers for the night America stripped to his boxers and pulled on one of the overly tight undershirt. A moment later America turned off the lights and England felt the bed dip as he crawled in.

Oddly, he felt a strange combination of anticipation and impatience.

Predictably, America started tossing and turning and England was forced to hold him until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

'That's better,' he thought already half asleep and not conscious enough to feel embarrassed.

* * *

><p>Bah... finals have really been kicking my ass! Sorry for not updating sooner. I'm mostly finished now, and will start updating more regularly when I'm completely done.<p>

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I think I've rewritten it too many times and it just seems a bit overworked somehow. Anyway, let me know if you think it's funny at all! I have way more ideas and hope that subsequent chapters turn out a little better.

Thank you so much to everyone that left a review! You have no idea how much I love them :)

PS OMG Shinigami-cat you read my mind and gave me a great idea for a future chapter! Awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

It was a typical Saturday night, not unlike many that had occurred over the last year. The weather was a bit wet, not unusual for England, and most people were either at their local pub or nested at home for the night. Not unlike many of his countrymen, the personification of England was also spending the night at home, however he was far from nested. In fact, he was sitting in the dark in his den brooding over the events of the past seven days.

Fantasizing about Alfred had opened the proverbial floodgates of his imagination and unleashed a deluge of erotic Dr. Who themed dreams staring none other than the clueless Superpower. The worst part was that somehow all of Alfred's proclamations of being the 'hero' had worked their way into Arthur's subconscious and he had mentally cast the American as Dr. Who. While Alfred was the mysterious and sexy Doctor, Arthur himself was none other than a libidinous version of the Master hell bent on getting into the Doctor's pants.

Not only was he shaping up to be a pervert, he was a pervert with bizarre tastes.

He felt oddly miffed about being a villain in his own imagination. If anything, he should be the Doctor, while Alfred played a companion, or one of the Doctor's archrivals.

Although, he supposed if his role was to try and seduce the Doctor, it made sense that he was one of the Doctor's nemeses. It was not a particularly heroic impetus for a character, nor was it befitting of the series' protagonist.

The anticipation of his upcoming interaction with Alfred had quite literally driven him up the walls, or at least up a ladder near the walls, as he had been attempting to channel his stress into nervous cleaning and he needed the ladder to reach the cobwebs in the corners of the room near the ceiling.

After cleaning, dusting, and polishing anything he could get his hands on over the past week his house was nearly spotless and with the culmination of his house keeping activities he couldn't think of a damn thing else to do and had just sat down on the couch until it had eventually become dark.

He simply did not know what to think.

Over the past week he had come to terms with the fact that he had become sexually attracted to Alfred, his former colony.

Beyond that, he hadn't the foggiest idea on what to do about it.

He couldn't exactly avoid America, that would be political suicide, but he could avoid Alfred socially at least. While they had many relations over their considerable history Arthur had never had such an inappropriate thought about him.

Except for once, he had to admit. He'd once had a fleeting thought, when he'd come home from a long voyage having left a child only to find a man. When he first saw America he'd thought idly how handsome his former charge had become. It was something he barely acknowledged and had immediately buried deep within himself, never to resurface. Or so he'd believed.

How he would ask America to stop visiting him to watch Dr. Who was another conundrum. Certainly, he would have to say something to Alfred. The man was particularly obtuse and any sort of subtlety would surely go straight over his head. If Arthur tried to simply distance himself, or ignore America, for example if Arthur chose to not answer the door tonight, rather that getting the hint he was almost positive that America would tear off the door, assuming that he had been abducted by aliens, had absconded on a secret mission for MI5, or possibly fallen in the shower and cracked his head. There was no way to predict the outlandish scenarios that the American would come up with rather than deduce the obvious.

Truth be told, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to avoid the American. The past few weeks, while they had been confusing, had brought with them a pleasant… anticipation. Interacting with Alfred outside of their countries' political affairs had been a novel experience, and he was curious on what else it would bring. Now that they seemed to be falling into a sort of routine, England found that he was actually looking forward to seeing Alfred tonight, despite simultaneously dreading it.

England sighed.

What did he want? Just sex?

A pang of guilt shot through him for once again thinking about taking advantage of Alfred.

No, that definitely wasn't something he wanted.

Did he want a relationship?

He knew he was lonely. Maybe that was the origin of all these inappropriate feelings?

England groaned. He had been pendulously cycling between these same thoughts since this morning and had no progress whatsoever with it. Soon enough, the object of his deliberations would be here in the flesh, and England didn't want to spend another night at the mercy of his own perverted imagination.

Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it was only two minutes from the last time that he had checked it, and still another hour until Dr. Who.

Of course the inconsiderate git never warned him when he would arrive, making England even more nervous. He liked having visitors, but having people drop by at their leisure made him feel restless.

When he thought about all the ways that they were incompatible, it made his attraction seem almost silly.

Great scot that was a brilliant idea! He would make a list of pros and cons!

Running into his office and rummaging in his writing desk outfitted him with a piece of paper and a writing utensil. He felt a sense of ease when he returned to the den. Now he simply had to list all the things he disliked about Alfred, then all the things he liked, and once he had them all catalogued surely he would see how ridiculous and misplaced his feelings were.

Happily, he drew a line along the center of the paper and labeled each side "negatives" and "positives," before writing "Inconsiderate about plans" underneath "negatives".

There, that was easy to get started!

Once he thought of one negative, he was struck by a torrent of other ideas. The onslaught included everything and anything from "has a poor diet," "talks while eating," "tracks mud into the house," to "thinks robots are the solution to any and all problems" and filled up the left side of the page until it spilled onto the back of the piece of paper. Eventually, he had to stop simply because he had run out of space.

Looking at the empty positives side, he tentatively wrote one idea.

It was the only thing that he could come up with.

Staring at the page, he was struck by how one-sided his list was, and not in the way he had expected. His eye was continually drawn to the right side of the page where one line stuck out in great contrast from the rest.

"He's cheerful."

It was true that Alfred was quite cheerful, and England found it to be rather endearing. If he was honest with himself Alfred's cheerfulness made him feel happy. Of course Alfred elicited quite a few other emotions in addition to happiness, mind, including annoyance, fatigue, confusion, and what have you, but it made England happy to think that there was someone out there that was consistently cheerful to see him.

Everything else on the list was petty shit.

'Damn bloody list! That didn't solve anything!' he thought while vindictively crumpling the paper and dramatically throwing it on the ground, before having another epiphany and deciding to set it alight in the kitchen.

As the list smoldered in the sink he felt marginally better. At least he didn't have a bloody list telling him what to think.

While exiting the kitchen and returning to the den, Arthur failed notice he had left the window over the kitchen sink open the tiniest silver of a crack. This miniscule entrance to his home enabled an infinitesimal draft to carry the smallest of sparks from the incinerated list to a kitchen towel that was hanging on a peg nearby.

He resumed his post on the couch, noting that precisely ten minutes had elapsed.

_Cock._

* * *

><p>Alfred was late, undeniably late.<p>

Dr. Who would start in another minute or two.

Arthur watched the clock anxiously as the seconds ticked by. Only then did it occur to him that Alfred might not be coming at all. The thought made him go cold.

"Oh hilarious, here I am working myself up over nothing."

He turned on the television and watched emotionlessly as the show started.

Arthur did not allow himself to think that the American might be running late, that perhaps he would come next week, or any other hopeful excuse. He knew better. For Alfred, their interactions had been completely casual. He had stayed the first time simply out of curiosity, and perhaps it was that same curiosity that had motivated him to visit a second time. Now he had simply gotten bored and decided to stop coming, in effect sparing Arthur from having to deal with the situation at all; he should have felt relieved.

Instead his mood turned unequivocally dour and he contemplated getting drunk.

After fifteen minutes the doorbell rang and scared the living daylights out of England.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" he demanded as he answered the door, only to be thoroughly shocked by who he saw.

"America?"

"Hey! Sorry, my meeting ran late. Did I miss much?" He said while taking off his coat and hanging it up on the coat rack.

"Bloody hell! You've missed the whole introduction with the Master! Get in here, and lock the door!" England yelled exasperatedly over his shoulder and he dashed back into the den, America close on his heels.

"Aw man! Who's the Master?"

"He's a rogue time lord and the Doctor's greatest arch nemesis." He explained as they both threw themselves on the couch.

Alfred made a noise deep in his throat. "Of all the meetings to run late!"

A feeling of relief washed over England and he tried to hide a smile as he pretended to be peeved about Alfred's tardiness. When the episode ended, Alfred made Arthur tell him every thing that he had missed in excruciating detail.

"So, he's sort of like Lex Luther, huh?"

"Lex Luther? Who is that?"

America grinned at him, "He's Superman's arch rival. You've heard of Superman, right?"

England snorted, then said sarcastically "While I have spent the last few years living under a rock, however I am at least tenuously aware of your pop culture icons."

"You're interested in comics?" Arthur asked. He couldn't imagine the American reading anything truth be told, but comic books were better than nothing.

"Of course! It's an American past time! I have all the originals too, I usually buy two copies so I can keep one in mint condition."

"You like to _collect_ comic books?"

"Yeah, I have all the best ones. All the Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Marvel, you name it! I have a lot of them first edition too, although some weren't so popular when they came out and I've had to look for them at specialty stores. I'll let you borrow some of my stash sometime, if you want."

As Alfred prattled on about comic books and hero stats Arthur had a sudden revelation.

While on the exterior Alfred appeared to be some sort of jock, he was in actuality a complete and utter nerd; a robot loving, science fiction reading, twenty-sided die, Dungeons and Dragons playing, tabletop gaming, nerd.

It made him wonder what else he thought he knew about the other nation that was wrong.

Disturbed, England muttered something about making tea and went into the kitchen only to find his curtains engulfed in flame.

For a second he just stood there, watching as his drapes were consumed by fire.

"What the hell did you do?" the question startled him back into awareness. Alfred had followed him into the kitchen and now they were both panicking.

"I was trying to make tea!"

They frantically searched for a fire extinguisher, which Alfred eventually found in the pantry and used to douse the blaze. The smoke was so thick they spent the next several minutes running around the house opening all of the windows. Exhausted, America both fell boneless unto the floor while England sagged against the wall.

Alfred started to make a choking noise.

"Are you alright…?"

_Wait a minute… _

"Hahaha, only you would manage to set the kitchen on fire making tea!" Alfred burst out as his raucous laughter escaped him and he began rolling on the floor.

"Shut it!"

Wiping the tears from his eyes Alfred continued, "Oh man, I have to teach you how to cook for your own safety! Next time we'll make burgers, okay?"

"Next time?"

"Yeah, next week? I don't have a meeting right before, so I'll be able to pick up some groceries and come early. Sound good?"

As Alfred gazed up at him with genuine mirth in his eyes, England came to the realization that he liked _this_, this was what he wanted most from Alfred. They hadn't been this close since sharing records in the sixties*, and he'd missed the camaraderie they'd once shared.

"I suppose." He said, coughing. It was still very smoky in the house.

"Hey what's this?"

America had risen and was now looking with a puzzled expression into the sink.

_Oh shit the list!_

He immediately ran over to grab the incriminating evidence, hoping that Alfred hadn't seen anything he'd written. Thankfully the bloody list had been reduced to an indecipherable pile of ashes that dissipated at his first touch. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"England! Was that a self-destructing message from MI5? So cool!" Alfred asked excitedly.

"No, that was just a shopping list." He lied.

"So… you really did set fire to the kitchen while trying to make tea?"

There was no way anyone would believe he'd felt a homicidal urge to destroy a mere grocery list. If he didn't go along with it, America would invariably hound England about secret missives until he was blue in the face.

"Yes, yes I did."

This was just easier.

Still, he felt his cheeks burning with shame.

"Oh." The look on America's face was one of absolute disbelief.

They stood in the kitchen like awkwardly until they were interrupted by America breaking into another coughing fit.

"Look, it's late, let's clean up in the morning."

Still in the process of clearing his lungs, America nodded his head.

"Oh, I have something for you."

"You do?" America asked with his brow furrowed.

"Yes, follow me if you will."

He led America into his bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom before emerging with a sealed toothbrush in his hand.

"Here. If you're going to stay, I'd rather not wake up to your horrible morning breath again." Arthur declared ostentatiously.

"I don't have horrible morning breath! My morning breath is like a spring breeze!"

"Maybe if your diet was better you wouldn't!"

America pouted.

"Thanks, I guess."

He hesitated in the doorway of England's room.

England gestured towards the door of his bathroom. "Well, are you coming?"

They brushed their teeth in relative silence. When they both finished England returned to his bedroom rummaged through this drawers for a clean set of pajamas and tucked them under his arm. He then handed America the last undershirt in the package.

"I'll change in the bathroom, you can change in here if you like."

"Um…"

You'd think he'd instructed him to dismantle a bomb the way America was staring at him. He was acting very odd tonight.

England changed into his pajamas quickly and returned.

"Could you turn off the lights before you come into bed?" England asked as he pulled out the sheets and made himself comfortable.

"Uh...is that really what you… you're okay with that?"

"Yes, I asked you to turn _off_ the lights before because I want to sleep with them _off_."

_Sigh, what the hell was the bloody git saying?_

"I'm too tired to wade through your labyrinthian grammatical constructions. Flip the switch to off and get in the bed."

America did exactly what he was told and laid down, absolutely still. It was disconcerting, and prompted England to shake America's arm and ask "What's with you tonight? Is something wrong?"

America smiled brilliantly at him, and England's brain temporarily short-circuited. "No, everything is perfect."

Bloody incomprehensible git was hiding something.

"Come on, out with it."

Alfred shook his head, "Nah, um…I guess, I just wanted to thank you for inviting me over. I haven't had this much fun in a while."

England blanched and almost launched into a tirade, mostly having to do with how America had invited himself over, but found that he wasn't up for it.

Instead he shrugged noncommittally.

"Tonight was…a disaster honestly." He said while smiling sheepishly. Then he cleared his throat and continued, "In any case, for a disaster, it wasn't so bad."

Alfred chuckled in response.

Not bad at all.

"Goodnight, Alfred."

"'Night."

That night, they established a pattern they followed for the next twelve years.

Then like all things, it ended.

They didn't talk about it as the series wound down, although Arthur knew that it was the last season and he was fairly certain that Alfred knew as well. Their last night was not any different from any other; they picked up some take out, watched the show, discussed their favorite parts and went to bed.

Afterward, sometimes late at night he'd occasionally think about calling America to ask if he ever wanted to watch the series box set or perhaps watch one of the marathons they'd periodically have on the tele, but he never did.

* * *

><p>(Really long) author's notes:<p>

* This is in reference to the British Invasion

Sorry guys, I've betrayed you! The word count on this chapter is enormous simply because of my protracted author's notes

I wanted to subtly hint that Arthur is letting Alfred stay in his bed because it's part of his routine, without realizing that he isn't afraid of anything or clinging to him tonight. Did I get that across? I'm not very happy with this chapter and I think I might end up rewriting it. It seems like the chapters keep getting harder and harder to write.

Man, I screwed up the 70's setting of the last chapter! I tried really had to keep the anachronisms out, like making sure I didn't write "and then America paused the tivo" or something, but somehow America and England managed to sneak their cell phones in, dang it! I mean, America's penchant for anachronisms is sort of canon, like using his laptop 50 years before they're invented, but England? Gahhh.

Also, apparently BBC 1 doesn't have any commercials, so when I said that I would butcher Dr. Who, I literally meant that I would cut it into segments, then intersperse adverts, lol. Okay, so everyone time to suspend disbelief! This fic is set in an alternate, obviously dystopian universe, in which the BBC1 has commercials, Dr. Who serials are 1 hour long, even in the seventies, and they run once a week on Saturday at 9 or 10PM.

Thank you so much for all the reviews guys! You guys are so sweet wishing me good luck on my finals awww! It's so much fun writing this story and I'm glad that other people are enjoying it

Hey, I have a question! Who is everyone's favorite Dr?

Personally, I like 4 from the original series, and from the revival I like…9.

**Ducks nuclear warhead**

I know I know! Please cult of 10, don't kill me! It's just idk, I didn't like 10 as much as 9. He had such a youthful spirit! I really enjoyed that, and I thought he was a great person to reintroduce Dr. Who, even if he wasn't a Doctor for very long.

Anyway, I think that Arthur's favorites would be David Tennant and Peter Davison. He'd like 10's penchant for telling people off for being dicks (as the Doctor of course, David Tennant as the actor has been nothing but gracious and adorable in all of the interviews I've seen of him and I couldn't imagine he telling anyone off IRL), and I saw I interview in which David Tennant said that Peter Davison was his favorite Doctor of all time and based his own version heavily on 5, so they just seem sort of like a set to me. Also, Arthur dislikes but feels an odd attraction to Capt. Jack Harkness for some reason…*giggles evilly*

I'm making Alfred more like me. I think we're very similar in some ways, although thankfully I have a much better grasp of geography lol. In fact, just the other day I was watching Ghost Hunters and eating ice cream, and I felt totally like America lol. Anyway, I think Alfred would like Tom Baker and Christopher Eccleston best.

Oh yeah, I think that Matt Smith is doing an excellent job as the current Doctor and he is soooo adorkable! I want to take him home to listen to cracks in my wall

Last thing, several people have been requesting I cover the Weeping Angels episode. I'll definitely have the boys MST3K it, but are there any other episodes/alien species from the revival that you would like? We'll be fast-forwarding to 2005 by the 5th or 6th chapter. You can leave a request in the comments and I will take all of the suggestions into account, even if I can't cover all of them!

Oh I lied, one last author's question! I had an idea about covering "The Empty Child," but in a more serious way that has to do with England's reaction to being reminded of the Blitz. Would you be interested in seeing that? I realize this is classified as humor, so I really don't want to depress you guys too much. We'll take a tally and if you guys don't want to read such a downer, I'll just keep it to myself.

PS: Yeah, I totally stole the idea of England setting the kitchen on fire while trying to make tea from a kink meme prompt. Although, to be fair to England it wasn't really making the tea that set the kitchen on fire.

Fun facts: Apparently, Microsoft word doesn't recognize "labyrinthian" as a word. It is! I swear! I even googled it to make sure it was spelled correctly!

You should probably just leave now, because I really never will stop talking.


	4. Drabble 1

Hehe I love you guys, here's a little drabble I wrote tonight. It's really rough, but I hope that you enjoy it anyway!

* * *

><p>Where the hell was he?<p>

He looked around at the unfamiliar street. He was somewhere… in Cardiff?

Off in the distance he noticed a rather odd-looking police box in the old style. It somehow seemed a bit off, as if the windows weren't quite the right size.

Well, he supposed he could ask where he was.

As he approached the police box he noticed that the door was open a crack and there were strange lights spilling forth from it, painting a kaleidoscope of colors on the sidewalk.

"Hello?" he called, peering his head inside. As he did, he had to choke back a gasp.

It was bigger on the inside!

"Hello! You're right on time, excellent! I've been expecting you."

Arthur made an inarticulate choking noise as he took in the figure in front of him. The man he was incredibly handsome; tall, attired in long red jacket with an overly long scarf draped around his broad shoulders, he wore spectacles giving him an intelligent look, and had gorgeous blonde hair with a small tuft of hair that stuck out rakishly.

In short, he looked completely out of this world and Arthur was certain he had never seen him before in his life.

"Have… have we met?"

"Pardon, I've forgotten that we haven't met yet! Well, I've met you, but you haven't met me!" the stranger tittered.

"I'm the Doctor, do make yourself at home." He said graciously, putting his arm around Arthur and steering him into a comfortable armchair that Arthur hadn't noticed.

"What sort of Doctor?" Arthur asked.

Ignoring his question the Doctor looked into his eyes and entreated, "Arthur, the truth is that I need you."

"Do you?" he responded automatically and as his heart began thundering in his chest.

The Doctor leaned in conspiratorially, a knowing look in his eye.

"Yes, I have a very special mission that I've been asked to complete by the time lord council, but I cannot do it alone. Will you help me?"

"If it's within my power, I'll do what I can to help." The words tumbled out without any prior thought and he found himself blushing for some unknown reason.

One of the Doctor's eyebrows arched devilishly.

"Oh I think it will be within your 'power,' in fact, I have an inkling that you will be quite good at it."

The Doctor leaned in and kissed him long and slowly, gently cupping Arthur's cheek.

Sensually he unwrapped his scarf and began winding it around Arthur's shoulders as their kiss deepened. Arthur broke away to catch a breath of air and instead let out a load moan as the Doctor sucked the sensitive part of his neck near the underside of his jaw.

The Doctor kissed him roughly, forcing his head back and biting his tongue while the scarf started to constrict painfully around him.

"Ow! What the hell?"

He looked up and was met with malevolent violet eyes.

"You will become one with Russia, da?"

"Ahhhhh!"

He thrashed violently trying to escape the vice grip of the beige scarf, only to experience the sudden and inexplicable sensation of falling.

Arthur woke up on the floor near bed in a tangle of sheets.

He stood and demanded angrily "What the hell was that?" of the universe.

It did not respond, and in a huff he went back to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's notes: Okay, so I know that "Doctor Who the Movie" was a made for TV movie, but I didn't know that when I started planning this… so if you would just suspend your disbelief for a bit and go along with the scenario I've created, I'd appreciate it ^_^

*Waves hand* These are not the inaccuracies/plot holes you are looking for!

Additional warning: A hate crime is perpetrated in this segment but worry not, vengeance is swift (and British).

A-hem, now please enjoy the rest of the show ^_~

* * *

><p>"This is all your bloody fault!" Arthur screamed at his companion.<p>

For his part, America did manage to look somewhat contrite.

"It was an accident!" he reiterated sheepishly, an embarrassed smile taking the place of his usual ebullient one.

Arthur held his head in his hands and spent a moment collecting himself. He knew that it had been an accident, certainly that wasn't… no, he didn't want to even think about it, and he was never going to be able to look at a geoduck again, not that they weren't already altogether cringe worthy in that respect… in any case, thinking about it only exacerbated the tide of anger that had risen within him. It was 11 o'clock, he was stuck in London, scheduled to be in Berlin tomorrow and of all the countries in the world he was with the one nation he'd been trying desperately to avoid. He was cold, irritated as fuck all, and they were in the one neighborhood in London with no taxis.

While their political relationship hadn't been affected, the friendship they'd slowly been building had rapidly decayed after the cancellation of Doctor Who, their sole common interest. The past few world meetings had been especially brutal; every harebrained scheme the American presented to save the world from global warming/loneliness/backnee, or what have you, was worse than the last and had driven England nearly to homicide. If he hadn't known better, England would have thought America was trying to get a rise out of him. Scowling, he glared at the other nation from between the cracks in his fingers.

Of course it had done nothing to curtail the attraction he'd developed for the blasted sod. On the contrary, if anything their quarreling now riled him up like nothing else. For him, every meeting had become a quagmire of sexual tension and annoyance and the worst part was that America remained none the wiser, forcing him to suffer alone!

_Damn the stupid sexy bastard!_

At that moment he noticed that America was idly poking holes in a wall with his finger.

The _BRICK_ wall.

"Oi! Stop defacing my capitol you prat!"

"Oh! Whoops!" America said, startled out of his reverie.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" He yelled, feeling somewhat satisfied when America actually jumped away from the wall.

"Jeez, sorry! Can we go somewhere now, or are you still pouting?"

England felt his face heat up, "I was not pouting and I'll have you know that I don't take your vandalism lightly!"

"It's just a few holes in a wall!"

"Belt up! It's my wall, I'll decide what constitutes a violation!"

"What do you want me to do? Go back in time and undo it? If I was trying to deface your capital you wouldn't have a chance." America said while laughing.

England sputtered, incensed and unable to articulate the animosity he felt. Instead he said, "You really need to learn when to shut up, do you know that?"

"Cheer up! I'll buy you a burger or something to make up for it!"

"And how will you make up for the burger?" England retorted.

America shrugged, then made a show of putting his hands in his pockets and smiled at him.

"Fine-Fine! No burger for you then. Feel better now?"

England sighed; he was much too tired to deal with this.

"You'd better keep your hands in your pocket or so help me I will make you wish that you were never born!" He stated while he grabbed his former charge's arm and pulled him roughly down the street.

"I don't think I was born."

Ignoring him England said, "Come on, I know a pub around here. I'm certain they can call a taxi for us."

They'd been walking for approximately ten minutes when America stopped dead in his tracks. England tried to jerk him forward, but it had no effect.

"What now?" He asked while steeling himself to prepare for whatever ridiculous thing would happen now.

"England!"

America looked excited, so much so his face was stretched into a wide grin and he was gesticulating wildly at a something across the street. With dread, England turned his head and was greeted with the sight of a rather dilapidated movie theater. Despite its appearance, the marquee was lit and England surmised that it must still be in operation. Slow realization dawned as he read the title of the midnight movie for the night.

"There's a Doctor Who movie!" America squealed in sheer delight. Then he turned the tables on England by taking hold of his arm and dragging him towards the theater.

"No! We are not watching a movie! It's late enough as it is!" England protested, as the theater loomed closer.

"But it's Doctor Who! Man, you act so old! Making an exception and staying up late one night isn't going to kill you! I can't believe that there's a movie! I didn't even hear about it!"

Still struggling England could not stop himself from remarking snidely "Shocking really, that such an event would escape your notice."

"I know, right? I wonder long has it been out?" America asked, completely oblivious to any sarcasm present in England's last comment.

_I really should have been expecting that_.

"I'm not sure, 1996?"

"What! No, no way are we leaving here until I see this movie!"

Abruptly, America halted in mid-step and England ran into him, letting out a little "oaf" as he did so.

"Wait, did you know about it?"

Surprisingly America appeared to be rather put out that England hadn't called him the second he'd learned of this cinematic enterprise. An unexpected feeling of guilt struck England very hard in the pit of his stomach and England couldn't help looking away as America searched his face.

"You watched it without me!" America accused, eyes awash with betrayal. Arthur felt an immediate need to defend himself.

"It was a made for tv movie, and it was terrible! Look, you're just going to hate it and want to leave half way through, so we'd better stop all this nonsense before it begins and find a taxi for the night."

America stared determinedly at Arthur and said, "I'm too curious now! I have to see it!" then he whined, "I still can't believe you saw it without me!"

Not wishing to make a scene, England kept his mouth shut when they arrived at box office and Alfred asked for two tickets. He then removed his wallet and glanced inside, but as he did so his face fell. England knew that look, and as America looked up at Arthur with big pleading eyes he could already guess what had happened. He tried to escape those eyes, tried ducking and turning his head, but wherever he glanced America put himself directly in his line of vision, a pathetic puppy dog expression on his face complete with a furrowed brow and wide shining eyes.

"Arthur? I don't have any pounds," he paused and his lip quivered for maximum effect, "Can you pay for the tickets please please please please please please-"

England screwed his face up into a scowl, but try as he might he still felt strangely guilty about not contacting Alfred when the movie has first come out and already knew that he was going to cave.

"…please please please please please-"

"Fine! I will pay for the tickets and watch this blasted movie, but only on the condition that you pay me back double and we never speak about this again." He said irately as he scowled at no one in particular and handed some bills to the ticket salesperson.

"Yay!" America exclaimed as his eyes screwed up in happiness and he physically jumped into the air while he pumped one of his fists.

"Stop that this instant! We are in public!" England said acerbically.

"Awww do I embarrass you that much?" America asked jovially.

"More than you could ever imagine." he responded.

England snatched his change and their tickets sharply and marched into the theater, not bothering to check if America was behind him. Vaguely he heard America say something about wanting popcorn but he ignored it and made a bee line for the seats near the back of the theater.

"Why are we all the way back here?" America asked as he plopped down beside England.

Arthur snorted, "I like sitting here. What's the difference? All the seats are exactly the same."

"But the hero always sits close to the action!"

"By all means then, go find another bloody seat!"

They then sat in silence while England seethed and America pouted.

Slowly, more and more people began to trickle in, including a group of rambunctious teenagers that sat directly behind them. Out of the corner of his eyes England glared at America reproachfully.

Great, he was surrounded by teenagers on all sides.

When the theater was half full the lights dimmed and the curtain furled, revealing the screen. The previews started shortly, and after ten minutes the familiar sound of the Doctor Who Opening title soundtrack played.

Idly, he wondered if he could try falling asleep in this position. He was exhausted from the meeting.

"Psst!"

He practically growled at the intrusion, but decided to ignore it. Hopefully America would give up and leave him alone.

"England!" Alfred called in a harsh whisper.

"Psst! Hey!" he continued, giving England a light push on the shoulder.

"What is it?" The older nation whispered back in irritation.

"Why do you hate this movie so much anyway?"

England sighed. How could he explain without going on at length?

"It's…campy."

America blinked, then forgetting himself laughed loudly.

"Campy? Pfft! No problem! That's what midnight movies are supposed to be like!"

"Shhh!"

"Oops!" he said much more softly, though urgently as he ducked his head to avoid that glares of two Goths that were sitting a few rows in front of them.

"Anyway," he continued, "that's what midnight movies are supposed to be like! Haven't you ever seen MST3K?"

"What on Earth is that? Some terrible American band?"

"No, and if it was an American band it would be awesome! It stands for Mystery Science Theater 3000! Basically, this guy watches really bad movies with these two robots and totally riffs on them! It's so bad, it's awesome!" He explained while grinning happily.

Arthur eyed him dubiously.

"Has anyone ever told you what bizarre tastes you have?"

"Haha no, but thank you!"

"I didn't mean it as a compliment, and do shut up! The movie has started!"

"You're talking too!"

"Only because you started talking to me! Now shut it!"

America rolled his eyes but managed to comply, at least for the time being. Not that it mattered, because now that he was no longer distracted by America's talking England noticed that the group of teenagers behind them were also spewing a litany of verbal diarrhea.

Excellent.

Morosely he tried to ignore them all and fall asleep. Just when he had almost fallen asleep he was startled awake by a shriek and the feeling of hands grabbing at him.

England frowned, he didn't remember there being any monsters in the movie that America was normally afraid of. Glancing at the screen it looked like they were at the part in which the Doctor's lifeless body was being wheeled into the morgue.

"What the hell? What are you so afraid of?"

"It's a morgue!" America gasped.

"So?"

"Don't you know what happens in morgues in movies?"

"No…?"

"Zombies!"

Nope, it was too ridiculous. He couldn't fathom where to even begin an argument with America when he was being so utterly insensible, therefore he fell back to what he knew and scowled.

"Get off of _ME_!" he whispered while he tried to shove the other man off. In response, America only clung tighter.

"Nooooo~!"

"If you do not let go of me this instant I'll-"

Arthur quieted suddenly when felt something small hit his cheek. He looked over to see a perplexed Alfred with a bucket of popcorn jaunting off the top of his head almost comically. For a few seconds they just sat there and stared at each other while they wondered where the bucket of popcorn had come from.

"Damn poufs! Go home if you want to make out you queers!" rang out in the theater so loudly it reverberated, only to be followed by the raucous laughter of the juvenile miscreants seated behind them.

"Did we just get hate-crimed?" America asked incredulously.

Arthur saw red.

"Oi! Asshole!"

He leapt over the back of his seat and chucked a beverage at one of the delinquent's faces. To the other boy who had spoken he gave a swift kick in the chest. Glowering, he yelled, "You don't deserve to call yourself British, you wanker! This is the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and if you know what's good for you, you will get the fuck out!"

Being unmitigated cowards the boys turned tail and ran at the first opportunity. Strangely, at that exact moment the audience started to whistle and broke into a round of applause. As England turned around, he came to the realization that they were not clapping because of the movie, but instead were all staring at him and had clearly borne witness to the previous exchange. He felt his cheeks flush in mortification as he climbed back into his seat.

"England, that was super cool!"

England did not respond, instead he opted to sink into the cushions and try to disappear for the rest of the movie.

When the Master turned into a snake and dove into the mouth of some random character he braced himself for America to jump onto him, however the impact never came. He looked over at the other man, and while America had shrunk into himself in obvious fear, he made no move toward England.

"Are you alright?"

"Super." America said and smiled at him a little too brightly. England noticed there was still some popcorn in his hair.

"Come here." He instructed and ran his hands through America's hair in an attempt to shake out the remaining bits.

America backed away from him uncharacteristically while he said quietly, "You don't have to do that."

"Don't be a git. I never do anything I don't want to."

A ghost of a smile graced America's features for a moment and it is was so unlike his usual cocky grin that England found himself entranced. He almost said it then, the words were on the tip of his tongue but he can't quite vocalize them.

_I missed you._

He thought it, thought it so hard and stared at America so deeply he was surprised that the other nation didn't have holes bored into him.

There was no more popcorn in his hair but England couldn't bring himself to take his hand away. Instead his fingers lingered, stroking America's scalp. Even with the small amount of grease the popcorn had left in his hair it was unbearably soft.

Reluctantly, England removed his arm and placed it on the armrest they shared, almost but not quite touching. They watched the rest of the movie in silence.

As the credits rolled and the audience began filtering out America leaned back and sighed contentedly.

"That was great! Cheesy, but in a good way." He said while he nodded his head up and down. "You have to learn to appreciate the cheese England."

Surprisingly, England found himself chuckling. "I'll have to take your word for it."

"Wouldn't it be great if they revived Doctor Who?"

England found himself answering honestly, "I think that would be wonderful."

* * *

><p>Sorry for how short this is and for how long I've taken to write it! I feel really guilty D:<p>

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it and please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! I will try to get the next one out faster!


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